Anchors
by summerlove1
Summary: "...Sometimes I would just walk past your locker to see if you would be there, but its like you know where I am, and I - I just can't find you..." This story explores the complex relationship between Stiles and Lydia when faced with the painful decision they can only make together. It's not love in the conventional way - but its love. Better than it sounds, enjoy!


**Anchors.**

It's not like she fully believes it herself, so for a week she pretends its not there, just like they pretend what they did never really happened, this is just a little extra problem she can ignore.

But then the sickness comes, and its relentless. For three days she doesn't make it into school and for three days they call. He calls the most.

On the second day she fires a text to everyone saying she has the flu. She doesn't text him at all.

**..**

It never really goes, the sickness, but she has learnt ways to somehow make it into school. Despite everything, she still enjoys learning, and her Mum was beginning to worry. It is her decision for now that no one can know, not her Mum or her friends. Especially not him.

It's all too complicated, so she throws herself into her next two lessons: Biology and math. Ironic how right now she can't figure out what to do in her life, but Trigonometry she could solve faster than anyone.

**..**

Somehow, somehow she makes it through her first day back without throwing up until she got home. When she does, she lurches over the toilet seat for almost an hour. Surely it shouldn't be this bad? She is scared to even think - and denial had been working so perfectly this last week.

Its stupid to put it off, and eventually she will have to deal with everything. To make it through the week, she decides, denial is okay. Everything is okay. When she can, she sits on her bed with the work she has missed and loses herself in it until there's a knock on her bedroom door.

"Your Mum let me in, I hope its okay. You weren't answering your phone and you completely avoided us today" She glances over to a black screen, her phone must have died. She takes a moment, then she looks up and smiles.

"It's okay, I'm sorry. Come in" Kira shuts the door behind her and takes a seat on the bed.

"I suspected as much so I brought you some things to cheer you up."

Out from her bag Kira pulls out some chocolate and crackers. There's movies in there too.

"My Mum made you some soup. It's an old family recipe, its supposed to help with the flu" On her bedside table she places a bowl.

"Thank you."

"We were all a little worried about you when you avoided us. Stiles especially. He asked if you would call him later, Lydia"

She ignores the comment and picks a movie. It's nice to have Kira round to help her forget about it all. They climb into bed and put a movie on. When she wakes its dark and Kira's gone.

**..**

She decides to spend the weekend in bed. The sickness subsides a little and for the time being she lives off the crackers Kira brought. On Monday she will have to face him again and the thought lurches her stomach. Her Mum is worried when she hears her daughter throwing up once more, though Lydia reassures its probably food poisoning from when she went for Chinese with her friends last week. When her temperature is taken Lydia smiles when it comes back 36.6, just to prove to her Mum she was right.

"If it's not gone by Friday I'm taking you to the doctor, it could be a serious bug."

_A nine month bug,_ Lydia grimaces.

**..**

Flicking strawberry blonde hair over her shoulder Lydia applies pink lipgloss to her lips. Even though she can't stop throwing up, and is constantly tired, the red head can't deny that she still manages to look fabulous. _Practically glowing_ She laughs to herself - a dark laugh, because otherwise she might cry. Its Wednesday, and after making it two days without anyone noticing a difference she decides today she will spend time with the group again. Smoothing her skirt she looks into the school bathroom mirror and smiles, catching the pink lipgloss on the tip of her tongue, a move she instantly regrets. She runs into the stalls slamming the door behind her.

She doesn't come out for a while, she is quite embarrassed to, so she sits on the stall floor and listens to the murmuring voices on the other side of the plastic door. Her head resting on her knees, she feels dizzy - like she is at sea when there's a storm. When she does unlock the door she is greeted by an array of looks. There's not that many people in the bathroom but there may as well have been the whole school. She smiles and keeps her head high.

No one can get to Lydia Martin. No matter what rumor, no matter what is said. Walking out the door her only decision is to go to biology, even if she is half an hour early. She doesn't have to see anyone today, not if she doesn't want to.

**..**

The group are sat at their usual table in the canteen when she walks in to see them a few days later. Its been been nearly two weeks since she ate lunch with them like this, odd, since it used to be a daily occurrence for her.

"You know what people are saying right?" Kira speaks with hushed tone. "They're are saying she's bulimic. It's ridiculous"

"She's been ill-"

"She's lost a lot of weight-"

"As I said, she's been ill" Stiles again interjects. He runs his hands through his short hair - an unusual move for him. He looks tired. Its hard to stare at him, so her eyes avert away to the others at the table - Kira leans back into Scott, Malia leans forward into the conversation.

"What's 'bulimic'?" Malia asks, a human concept she had not yet come across.

"It's when a person makes themselves sick" Lydia answers before anyone can, unaware of how close she is to the table until now. She quietly takes a seat next to Kira and pulls an apple out of her bag. "They're all just stupid rumors" She adds.

She feels him try to catch her eyes but she doesn't let him, so they burn onto her skin. It makes her uneasy. She doesn't talk to him all lunch, or at all really.

**..**

Her routine continues for the week, which mainly involves avoiding him. They have english together which at first she skips, then fear of falling behind makes her catch up on extra classes at lunch.

After she first slept with him things weren't awkward. They went on the way they were. They had agreed to leave things in limbo, they had drank a lot, and it was clumsy and passionate, and a one time thing. A few days after they had gone for smoothie's and drove around in his car. They had even joked about the back seat now being a sacred place for him to worship. They had revised together, gone to the cinema with the group. She watched silently as he moved on from her.

Now the tension between the two of them could not even be sliced with a knife.

At the weekend she helps Kira get ready for a date with Scott, and she spends some time with old friends at the mall. _Normality_, she repeats._ Denial._ Mainly, she spends it in bed curled up. _Alone._

On Sunday night she showers and changes into her pajamas. For the first time she catches her full body reflection in front of the mirror. Something has changed, but where?.She stares at her stomach. Still mainly flat. The truth is, if anything she had lost weight from throwing up all the time. In her head she calculates how far a long she must be. _Eight, nine weeks? _It's strange, that she can't really remember when, because she remembers the event clearly, despite the alcohol. Her gaze can't pinpoint the difference in herself, so she turns away in disgust.

She feels guilty. It was his first time and she treats him like this afterwards. God knows what he is thinking. A thousand thoughts in his head. They were friends, more than that, how could she be so cruel?

Yet pulling her shirt down over her stomach she only has one thought: She is not ready for this.

**..**

On Monday evening for the first time in a while Lydia is determined. She googles the closest family planning clinic - she knows there's one in the area because its always advertised over the school bathroom stalls, and she had gone with Gemma D'marco Sophmore year when she was knocked up, but the exact location is fuzzy in her mind. Gemma had got rid of it too. Finding a number is easy enough, and its only a fifteen minute drive.

Picking up her phone she calls the number displayed on her Laptop screen, and when she gets through her voice sounds like chalk.

"May I ask who's speaking"

"Lydia Martin. I would like to book an appointment."

Afterwards she delete's her browsing history just to be safe, then curls into her bed, the only place she feels truly safe. When her phone buzzes she contemplates leaving it

**_Stiles:_**

_Please stop ignoring me. We need to talk Lydia, you're worrying me._

Her vision is blurry. She switches the phone off, curls up and cries.

**..**

She doesn't want to see him today, so when her Mum comments on a blue jeep outside the house during breakfast at first she is shocked, and then angry.

She disguards her breakfast - bagel and fruit, she had been trying to show her Mum that she felt completely better, though the nausea had been near impossible to hide - and grabs her bags and keys from the hallway. She makes a big show of slamming the front door so he can see how annoyed she is that he is here, but when the door slams all she sees is a sudden jolt from the backseat of his car.

The backseat.

As she storms over she watches as he scrambles out the door, clearly having just woken up, almost landing on his body before recovering and gaining just enough time to lean against his beloved jeep. _Smooth, Stiles. _She stops just a little before him and takes in his disheveled appearance.

"What do you think you are doing here?" She asks, demands, from him.

"I came to offer you a ride to school" He says. His voice is gruff, he sounds tired, and a little awkward. How many times had he played this scenario in his head? He coughs loudly to control the wavering in his voice.

"And that gives you permission to wait outside my house?!" She's angry, really angry, her voice is almost shrill, it is a rarity for Lydia Martin to lose her cool. "How long have you been here for?"

"Two hours-" He replies.

"Two hours?!" she practically screeches.

"Well on Tuesdays I know you go into school early for those math masterclasses, and I thought - I wanted - to give you company." Right now she really wants to hit something, she is angry, so damn angry about it all.

Most of all she is angry that she isn't angry at Stiles. She's not angry at him at all, though she wants to be, needs to be. Truthfully, her body visibly aches from missing him. His goofy smile, the way he is full of energy, when she is not surrounded by him her bones hurt and skin itches. At this moment, all she wants to do is wrap herself in it - in him. She wonders if it's noticeable, not that she really cares, she just wants to tell him everything.

"Two hours you waited here?"

"Yeah, I thought we had established that" she pauses.

"I can drive myself-" She starts.

"I know. But I want to drive you." She doesn't know what to say, his voice is suddenly calm and strong. She is silent where words try to form, instead she tries to take a deep breath to calm herself down. Things were awkward between them, not because of what happened, but it is her that made it awkward. Lydia needed Stiles, she needed one of his compliments or strange rants, right now the young girl needed her friend. He is calming for her and without him she has been a mess.

"Lydia its been thirty-six days since we last talked. You won't reply to any of my texts or calls. You avoid me in the hallway. You know sometimes I would just walk past your locker to see if you would be there, but its like you know where I am, and I - I just can't find you" His voice wavers. "I know I sound pathetic right now, but you are my friend, and I miss you."

Lydia Martin doesn't cry, so she doesn't know what to do when tears form in her eyes, in the end she turns away, shutting him out.

"You're my friend, and friends don't treat friends like this." He says.

"Stiles - " She tries, but she stops herself, her voice broke. She heard it, and she knows he heard it too. She takes a shaky breath and tries again, turning to face him and blinking away tears that threaten to fall.

"We need to get going or we will miss first period" She tries, her voice is small.

He smiles, it electrifies her.

**..**

He parks his car in the parking lot, but neither of them move.

"Lydia-" He starts. She reaches for the door.

"Lydia" This time he grabs her hand. "Whatever is going on, you can tell me. If I did something - if I've hurt you in anyway - please tell me so I can fix it."

Maybe if she closes her eyes it would all go away.

**..**

That Wednesday the weather begins to turn. Lydia brings her winter jeans to her wardrobe from her cupboard, and replaces the cupboard with shorts. It's an annual occurrence for her to do this that signaled the end of summer, and an insomnious night had caused a cleaning fit in her room. Strawberry locks were shoved on top of her head in a loose bun, her dressing gown wrapped tight around her body. Softly she folds the shorts and places them, colour co-ordinated, into the cupboard. Then, absentmindedly she collects hangers and began to place a single pair of jeans on each wooden hanger and then into the wardrobe first by colour, then cross refenced in frequency of use. It was whilst doing this that she notices a jacket at the bottom of the wardrobe among neatly stored boxes and old shoes. _That shouldn't be there._ She pulls it out and holds it in her hands. It's blue, but it looks a lot lighter in the light of her bedroom. Under the stars it had appeared almost black. She remembers it being warm and comfortable, making her wonder why she had shoved it to the back of the wardrobe.

_"You look cold"_ He had stated, before she could protest it was on her shoulders. It still smelled of the bonfire. The whole night was etched into this jacket: the food, the drink, the games the night went on and accumulated..._"Lydia, I'm too drunk to drive"_ they had both burst out laughing, watching the dying embers of the fire. There was just something, something in the drink, or in the air, but Lydia was sure she was in love. She wanted to answer Allison's question then, as if she was still here, this is what love felt like. It was friendship, it was alcohol, it was moving on. It wasn't so much that they had ended up fooling around in his jeep, because the foolishness of the decision can be blamed on intoxication, but it was the way the moons half crescent light reflected on his pale face, the softness of his hands over her body, the crammed backseat where they lay - it was the carelessness in their eyes. Most of all, It was happiness and the goofiness between the two that they never seemed to be able to grasp with anyone else even in the lust of that moment. Being held the way Stiles held her that night scars the skin, it scars the heart.

She decided then true love doesn't mean the person you will spend the rest of your life with. It isn't romantic. True love is someone you can't live without.

Afterwards when they had sobered up, he drove her home. The sun was appearing behind the trees. He walked her to the door of her house and she unlocked the door.

_"I'm glad I have you"_ She spoke.

_"I'm glad I have you too"_ He smiled. Then, under the light of her porch they kissed. It was not the beginning of a budding relationship. It was the continuation of whatever they were. They kissed until the porch light pooled them into darkness.

Then he was gone.

Tears dripped onto the jacket. Lydia wanted to hate herself for crying. She didn't want to blame hormones, but being pregnant had really started to affect her in other ways.

She had two weeks until her appointment.

**..**

During lunch that week Scott couldn't stop staring at her. It's a quiet lunch, Lydia spent it flicking through Vogue with Malia, who enjoyed the magazines because of the perfume testers.

"I like that one" Malia points to a perfume tester, so Lydia rips it out and gives it to her. Often Lydia found herself rather bemused by Malia, who often struggles with certain social concepts. She also found herself impressed with the girl for managing high school despite missing a large chunk of education. It's days like these where the strangeness of Malia's situation helped cheer Lydia up.

The table is fairly empty. Kira has extra english and Stiles managed to get a detention from Coach, so was currently cleaning out Lockers. Scott sat with a few Lacrosse players who he called over to talk to about a play. It all is disinteresting to Lydia, So she doesn't acknowledge any of it.

Apart from Scott, who couldn't help but acknowledge her.

Scott wasn't the only one with eyes on her either. She looked up to find George, a fellow lacrosse player smiling at her. She smiles back. She's not ashamed to be flirty.

She bites into a carrot stick - she is living off raw vegetables and crackers at the moment, the nausea is particularly bad today. She catches Scott's eye again, this time she gives him a look _'You Okay?'_

"Malia?" Scott says instead.

"Mhhm?" She doesn't really respond.

"Malia?" He tries again.

"What?" She sighs, putting down the tester.

"Can you hear anything _unusual?_"

She listens out.

"Someone's totally screwing in the storage cupboard on the third floor" She snorts after a while. Lydia rolls her eyes and flicks a page in the magazine. She may have to excuse herself - the nausea is hard to handle.

"No. Well, yeah. I mean, does anything sound strange around the table."

"Like what-"

"I'm going to the bathroom, will you watch my stuff" Lydia moves as fast as she can.

**..**

She doesn't go to the bathroom, the nausea begins to subside when she walks. So she walks from the school building and to the school field. If any teams were practicing today they had long gone, the field is empty and quiet. There is a cool breeze in the air, and Lydia pulls her coat further around her. She sits on the bleachers staring at the pitch. She has never missed a game. First it was to support Jackson, but when that was over she found herself a set of friends to support. She stares into the woods that back onto the field. It's peculiar how close they are, but she likes them. The field doesn't always give good memories, neither do those woods, but she finds the trees beautiful.

Right now it's quiet, and she likes it.

"Mind if I join you?" A breeze wraps around the bleachers as Scott takes a seat next to her.

"Its cold. Are you not cold?" He says.

"I'm okay" She shrugs.

"You're not. Your heart is racing. Why don't we go back inside"

"I just want five minutes, Scott. Okay?"

"Okay, sorry" He says, and he is. He is sorry he has been neglecting her as a friend recently, he doesn't really know what he would have been able to do, but he could have done something sooner.

"You know when I was first bitten, out of everything - all the weird new abilities I got - the strangest, and most wolf like, is the hearing?"

"Mhhmmm"

"Like I can hear that you are cold. I can hear when people lie, I can hear a person's reaction to almost everything. I'm used to it, but I'm not sure I like it."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah" Scott says, partly because he knows he is talking nonsense, partly because he doesn't know what else to say. This is new territory for him. Normality is new for them all.

"I wouldn't complain too much, the whole wolf thing made to a good lacrosse player. Before that you were terrible, you were like Stiles" She jokes lightly, sarcasm tracing her voice. Scott Laughs also, because he knows its true, and because nostalgia is dangerous for them all. The past is painful.

"When I listen to your heartbeat something strange is happening, Lydia."

"How so?"

"I'm hearing two."

"Oh." She didn't really know what else to say. "I'm dealing with it, don't worry."

"Are you okay?"

"I think so." She's been worse.

"He deserves to know"

"It will only hurt him."

"I would want to know." He tells her empathetically. If Scott know's who the Father is, which she assumes he does, she is glad he came to talk to her first.

"I know" She sighed.

"Do you-" He coughs "-Do you need me to come with you when you go to an appointment, whatever you choose"

"Thank you. I think I need to talk to someone else first though."

"Okay"

"Okay"

"I think this is the most non - supernatural problem we have ever had" Scott says, and Lydia laughs.

"It still sucks though."

"I know, it really does" She rests her head on his shoulder and exhales, she is tired, and he can tell.

When they head back he carries her bag for her, Lydia doesn't protest.

**..**

She isn't really sure she wants to do this, even when she walks into the parking lot, or opens the door to his car. When she is just sitting there, waiting for him, she thinks about diving out the car and walking away, he would never know. But Lydia is past denial now.

She feels like damage has been done between them, and Stiles deserves to know why.

Sitting on the back seat is discomforting, like returning to the scene of the crime. The leather is cold against her skin, so she wraps her coat around her. Still, she leans back into the chair. She doesn't know how quickly he will leave last lesson. She can wait. She doesn't mind.

It's antagonizing to tell him. It's not like she is expecting a promise or a declaration, nor does she want any money or commitment. But she does need him. Its untenable the idea of losing him, but right now it feels inevitable, she knows that, and telling him can only torment the fragile grounding that their relationship stands on. Usually she can tell how he will react - because it is usually how she would react - but this time she can not tell. She only knows one thing: If she loses him, she will lose her freaking mind.

He is her anchor too. It works both ways.

Keys jostle into the lock of the car and Stiles hopes into the car, humming a song - Artic Monkeys? No, Greenday.

"Stiles" the redhead says. She doesn't know how long she has been waiting, her voice is gruff - like she's been sleeping.

He lets out a scream, and then curses. "What the hell, Lydia. How did you get in here?"

"Your Jeep has the worst lock system ever, it actually makes me sad. What took you so long?" She stretches in the seat, and then leans forward so her face can be seen more.

"I had to see Coach. If you needed a lift you could have texted me"

"Actually we need to talk, Stiles" She let a moment of silence fall between them, she is shaking and she is half sure he can tell because he stops smiling at her through the mirror.

"Okay, talk"

The thing is, she can't, or won't. She is not sure, either way her body is paralyzed from head to toe. Her hands won't stay still.

He tries to turn to face her, but his jeep is not the best place to do this, so he lets her take her time because recently he can't seem to get through to her, and all he really wants is to be able to talk to her.

"Stiles, I'm pregnant"

"Pregnant?"

"Pregnant." She repeats.

"Oh" he says lamely. Then there's silence and its too much for her to take. She feels sick, its too warm. She hops out the car and runs down the street. She only cries when she knows he is not coming after her.

**..**

At first the redhead tries to distract herself, but finds her room clean, homework done, and dinner already made - not that she has much of an appetite. She calls Kira and they talk for a while, but Lydia can tell she is distracted, and Kira is not to know that Lydia needs her right now. Her Mother makes sure she eats before kissing her on the cheek and leaving, her Mother has a date, Lydia has an empty house.

She feels heavy. The day, in all of its occurrence, weighs on her shoulders, and the young girl is exhausted. The hours became a lifetime unbeknownst to her, as she stumbled through the pain of the day feeling her heart hurt from what she had to do. Carelessly she ties her hair off her neck and removes her make up. The time is unimportant, in her mind it is the end of the day, pulling back the duvet she crawls inside and closes her eyes, wishing for something. Unsure on what, she just wishes it all away.

In everything succumbed to these last weeks Lydia had felt almost every emotion, but it is not until now, trapped inside her room that she felt truly, and unmistakably alone. She is mourning, mourning her best friend, who right now she needs; She mourns for her baby - and a decision she doesn't want to make alone; She mourns for her old life, a different time;

Most of all, she mourns for him.

**..**

The doorbell ringing wakes her but for a while the duvet still traps her. Rationally there was no need for her to answer the door: Her Mother had keys, and no one else could see her right now, her decision. However, the aching desire for a drink fills her mind quickly, so she slides out of bed and heads downstairs, quietly.

The porch light is still on, and someone is still behind the door. Frozen she waits, and they wait - even after the porch light flickers, then dies. She waits until she can hear scuffling of feet, down the front path. A car pulls away. Then slowly, she unlocks the door and opens it.

On the porch sits a boat - a toy boat, that the boys used to play with in third grade. Its grey, about the size of her radius, and ungodly ugly. On the side in pen 'Stiles' is scratched into it, in writing barely appropriate for a seven year old. In the end, her hands reach for it, half expecting it to break apart. It doesn't. On the bottom a yellow sticky note catches her attention.

_'You be my anchor, and I'll be yours'_

This time the writing is nicer. At first she is silent, then she smiles. Upstairs, she places it on her bedside table and climbs back into bed, staring at the boat until it is she who drifts away.

**..**

By her locker, he stands like a silhouette, making her notice how he has grown recently. It is subtle, extra muscle around his neck; his eyes are more defined - the brown is deeper, and framed by eyebrows that are more bushy. He is less gaunt, and when she comes closer he seems to tower over her in a way he never used to. Its different, but she likes it.

"Morning" Smiling, he takes her books off her whilst she opens her locker. Lydia can tell it is forced sentiment and happiness, but she appreciates the effort nonetheless.

"Did you sleep well?"

"I slept better than I have in a while" She replies, closing her locker and taking out her applied physics textbook. He takes it from her hands straight away, and places it with his math textbook.

It annoys her a little, but she bites her tongue. He is here, her anchor, and for a while she can't help but stare at him.

"What? Is there something on my face?"

"No, just that annoying grin of yours"

His face lights up into a goofy smile.

"Stop it. It's disgusting" She jokes, but secretly she hopes he never stops smiling at her like that.

"You love it really"

She does.

**..**

At first the difference between them is subtle. They sit next to eachother at lunch, he steals her carrot sticks, and she punches his arm everytime he does. Their eye contact is intense in every conversation, instead of secret glances at eachother across the table.

Which he still does, his eyes rarely leave her.

When she confesses the reason she often jumps up from the table and leaves is morning sickness, he starts to carry water and crackers with him everywhere so she can try to keep the nausea away, and if a wave of sickness hits her, she will find him waiting outside the girls bathroom for her when she's done, holding out a bottle of water, his brows pulled together and lips tight in concern. He always asks her if she is okay.

"I'm better now" She always responds.

The group begin to notice it too, when the conversation runs smoothly from one person to another, for the first time that month; when Lydia smiles and flicks her strawberry blonde hair over her shoulder in confidence like she used to. Its all the little things about the two of them that seem to return. They respond to one another, like they are on their own wavelength.

It is when Scott catches Stiles hand interlocking with Lydia's under the table that the change between the two is finally noticeable. Lydia, fresh faced and hidden in a hoodie is suffering from bad nausea and headaches, the deathly combination of pregnancy symptoms. Her hands are cold and shaking, Stiles notices this and instinctively grabs her left hand. He runs his thumb along her fingers, slowly drawing circles to her wrist and then back along her palms.

Of course, Scott raises his eyebrows, but only looks the other way when he sees the girls body relax back into his friend, just slightly, but enough so that Scott can see.

The world can see.

**..**

Malia had asked if they could go to the coffee shop on the outskirts of town to study for the history test tonight. They had all agreed, even though none of the others needed to. Malia had never been to the coffee shop before, and they had agreed that any willingness of Malia's to assimilate should be encouraged. It was rare for her to suggest, so though Lydia didn't want to, she offered to be there at seven.

Sighing in her mirror she tries the button of her jeans one more time. She is hot, and growing frustrated. Pulling the stretchy denim to the middle of her hips, she interlocks the button, Breathing in to do so and then resting her hands on her hips - just for the button to pop out a minute later.

Hot tears begin to burn her skin, and they pool down her reddened face. At ten weeks a bump had appeared on her stomach almost overnight. It is tiny, but it is cold hard reality. Lydia can't look at it. In defeat, she caves onto the floor, resting her smooth hair against her bed and pulling her legs close.

She is bruising from being hit down. The truth is she can't stand being pregnant, not right now. The symptoms don't agree with her, she is dizzy and weak from throwing up; her bones ache from holding herself together. Most of all, she can't stand the taste of guilt in her mouth for having, or not having a baby.

Its not so much that everyone will judge her if they found out, its how she is judging herself.

There was a knock at her door.

"Go away" She says, but of course they don't. Instead they open the door and rush over to her huddled body.

"What's wrong?"

"My jeans don't fit" She mumbles.

"What?"

"My jeans don't fit" She repeats this time with more clarity, looking up from her knees.

Of course he laughs at that. Softly he holds out a hand for her and she takes it. When she stands, they are dangerously close.

"I can't go, Stiles"

"Of course you can" He smiles. "Lydia Martin always looks gorgeous in everything she wears."

"I look horrible"

"No you don't. You don't have to go, but you will enjoy it if you do. You need to get out this house."

She smiles through tears. He wipes them away. They have few boundaries anymore, but her breath catches when his cold fingers caress her feverish cheeks, its so quiet but they are so close that it echoes between them. He doesn't want to move away - she is so warm and inviting - but there is a line they are not ready to cross. Not yet. He steps away and suggests a pair of leggings.

"The grey ones, that go with the pink jumper. You always look really pretty in that. The pink compliments your lips" he compliments, going a little pink himself. She smiles, greatful for him. He lingers.

"I'll wait in the Jeep" He starts.

"Stiles?"

"Yeah?" He is almost out the door, but he turns to face her. There is something in her voice - a desperation.

"On Saturday I have an appointment to, you know. I think I am going to go through with it."

"Oh. Okay."

She looks down at the floor.

"Stiles?" She tries again.

"Yeah?"

"Will you come with me? You don't have to-"

"Of course I will" He says before she can finish. There is no doubt in his voice. He is sudden, but sure. "I'll be there" He adds.

**..**

"How did you do?" She asks Malia on Thursday.

"B+" The girl smiles, ecstatic at the result. "I'm going to put it on the fridge. People still do that right?"

"Yeah" Lydia smiles "I'm happy for you. You deserve it."

"We should celebrate" Kira smiles, joining the conversation. "Are you free Saturday night? We can go to the campsite in the woods, its probably the last weekend we can go before the weather gets too bad."

Malia nods in agreement.

"I can't do this Saturday." Lydia states.

"Family thing" She adds, but only when Kira questions why.

**..**

Kira was wrong. On Friday morning the rain rolled in from the east. Friday evening the thunder started. Outside, darkness engulfed the street, only broken by the street lamps harsh orange glow, warily fighting the night. Tree's that usually stood tall, swayed like a boat in the wind. So easily moved for such a rigid constant outside.

For a while, the rain is louder than her thoughts, which is comforting, because her thoughts make her sick as soon as there's enough silence for them to fill.

But thoughts are persistent. They creep into her brain, they make her shake. She knows her breathing is ragged and the room is suffocating any freedom she has. She turns onto her side, bringing the covers with her so she is cocooned into a ball. It makes her feel a little safer, but the cool air and the rain send shivers up her back and her nerves shake at their touch. Is this what a panic attack feels like? In the dim light of her bedroom the walls appear to close in on her, she can't take it, she can see them move even when she closes her eyes. At first the young girl tries to hold her breath, but she can't get it to work - not like it did with Stiles. She has to focus on something, a sound, an object, anything. Frantically her water filled eyes search her room, but they land almost immediately on the toy boat on her bedside table.

Over and over they trace the tiny writing of young Stiles on the side of the grey boat. She stares until its shape is etched into her mind.

It is crazy, but she thinks of a young Stiles playing with that boat, probably with Scott, being seven and not a care in the world. She imagines his face - rounded in cute puppy fat instead of defined as it is now. The brown eyes, still fresh and absent from the horrors which will one day occur to him. This poor child, so clueless on how much he can endure. This poor child, the mirror image of what her child may look like.

For a second she imagines herself standing in a living room with wooden floors and cream walls and brown sofas. Photographs line the walls, in fact, they are pretty much everywhere. It reminds her of the house her parents had when she was first born. It was small - no indication of what was to come.

For a second she dares herself to imagine two children playing on the floor, fighting over the boat. A boy and a girl, they look like her. No, they have his hair, and his eyes,

And the boy, he has Stiles's smile.

For a second Lydia imagines her life in eight years if tomorrow she stays right where she is now. No PhD, no big career, no unusual and exotic holidays or cities.

But two children, and two rings on her finger.

Lydia has to get away, the house knows all her secrets, the pools of darkness are only partly in her mind.

**..**

Its crazy to drive in this weather, but right now Lydia is half sure she is going crazy, and is crazy enough not to care. At first, there was no plan on where she is going, but it is apparent almost instantly that she is driving straight to his house. It doesn't matter that she can barely see: she knows the route by memory.

In the car the air is cool, and it is dark. It is calming even if the car shakes in the wind. Stopping at the crossroad a few streets away from his house she waits to see if any cars will come.

A ridiculous idea, no one would dare drive in this weather.

The storm itself only seems to be getting worse as she starts the engine again and drives ahead into the next street. Ahead the lampposts sway dangerously and Lydia reduces speed out of caution, she can not see. The windscreen wipers are on full speed.

_Concentrate _But her thoughts are everywhere, _breathe _but she can't until she sees him.

Thunder echoes in the car and for a moment she is startled, almost slamming on the breaks. Instead she grips the steering wheel tighter and continues as the wind echoes around the car. It is whistling through the door, the lights in the street are flickering, she is almost there -

She almost doesn't see it, but when she does she closes her eyes and swerves, half knowing it is too late. The crash burns in her ears before she feels the jolt of the car. At first she doesn't want to move, but enough time passes and there is no sharp shooting pain in her body, she can feel her toes, she can open her eyes.

But God, she can't breathe.

Her shaking hands fumble in the darkness for her phone, she can't remember where she threw it on the seat next to her, but in the dark they helplessly search until they feel the cold phone glass. The light of the phone is bright, and the dial tone hurts her ears but his number is known off by heart, God she is screaming. She doesn't know who else to call.

"Hello-"

"Stiles" She chokes. How long can a person go without oxygen?

"Lydia? Is everything okay? Where are you?" He sounds concerned, he is talking faster than ever, but Lydia is struggling to breathe, she can't respond. "Lydia? Are you hurt?"

"I had to get out the house, Stiles. There was a crash - Oh God, I don't know what to do -"

"Where are you?" She can hear him fumbling around and the sound of keys moving

"I was on my way to yours. I was nearly there" She starts.

"Don't move. I'll be there soon. Everything will be fine, Lydia. I'm on my way" But he doesn't hang up the phone, even when she begins to cry down the other end. Keeping her eyes wide she focuses on breathing.

She has learnt that if you close your eyes, it doesn't go away, it just makes you face everything blind.

**..**

He shouts her name before he is even out of the Jeep. Infact, he is half sure he is running towards the wreck of her car before the Jeep has fully stopped. There's a pain in his voice as he pulls the door open to the drivers side. A lamp post has fallen onto the bonnet of the car, a few more inches and it could have been her.

He practically rips the door off. He is startled when he sees her, she is shaking, but not bruised. He is shaking too. "Lydia." His voice echoes. "Oh Thank God"

Reaching over he unhooks her seatbelt, he can tell she is in shock, anyone would be. Her phone is still tightly in her hand and her eyes respond to the sound of his voice and stay open wide.

"Can you move?" He asks. She nods. Reaching for her hand he pulls her out of the wreck - it is not safe and they need to get away from it as soon as possible, but she is shaking so damn much if she takes a step she might fall. The rain is hitting them both and it rolls down Stiles skin, he can hardly see a few meters in front of him, but he doesn't want her getting wet, so he takes off his coat and wraps it around her.

Stiles is not that strong, and Lydia - even now - is no damsel in distress, but he doesn't give her the option: He scoops the petite redhead up and runs back to his car, placing her in the passenger side. Then, he runs to the drivers side and climbs in. He never took the keys out of the ignition.

He doesn't question her decision to drive to him, she appreciates that. He drives slow, she appreciates that even more. When they get to his house she climbs out the jeep and runs to the front door, they are both soaking wet and create pools of water when they step into the house.

**..**

"Where's your Dad?" She asks when he re - enters his bedroom carrying a handful of towels for them to split.

"At the station. When there's a weather warning they have all the cops in for any emergencies." He hands her a towel. It is soft and warm, and smells like him.

"The shower is down the hall, if you want to use it"

She pauses. "I have no clothes" They stand, still dripping wet, not wanting to sit.

"Here" He says, walking over to a chest of drawers he pulls out an old top and a pair of pajama pants. "I know its no Micheal Kors, but they're comfy." She smiles and takes them from him, placing them ontop of her towel.

"If you leave your clothes outside the bathroom I'll put them in the dryer if you like"

Turning to walk out his room, her eyes linger on him.

"I'd really appreciate that, Thank you." She pauses, "I'm sorry."

"There's nothing to be sorry about"

"Still. I'm sorry, about it all."

"Yeah. Me too"

She closes the door behind her and heads to the bathroom.

**..**

She feels better after the shower, there is a sense of calmness about her that she can't really comprehend. She changes and towel dries her hair. Her skin smells like him. It relaxes her.

Back in her room Stiles is also changed into some pajamas. His hair is towel dried and looks askew, but when she walks in he looks taken back by her appearance. There is something magical about her wearing his clothes, there is a new sense of intimacy between them that they had never shared, it's not like when she has been here before, it's not that night in the back of his jeep, its sudden and strange. They are both fully aware of it surrounding them too. Her heartbeat elevates and suddenly she is flushed.

Outside thunder echoes.

"I made some tea" He coughs, handing her a cup. They did not realise they were staring at each other until it was obvious that they were.

"Thanks" She says, taking the cup. She takes a seat on his bed placing her back against the wall and pulling her legs to her chin, and he takes the spinning desk chair - their usual seating arrangements when she comes round.

"You really worried me tonight" He starts, breaking the silence.

"I know, I just - I couldn't sleep. I was thinking, about tomorrow."

"Yeah, me too." He pauses to take a sip of his own drink. "I am sorry I did this to you" his voice is genuine, and he stares at her so intently that she can feel the plea of guilt in him.

"Stiles we both did this. It takes two to tango" She reassures.

"Yeah. Yeah it does" He smiles. Her laughter fills the room over his obvious remembrance.

"You disgust me" She jokes.

"No I don't" He retorts.

"You're right. You don't." Taking another sip of her drink she places it on the bedside table. "We're making the right decision, aren't we?"

"You know I would support you whatever decision you decide"

"You would?"

"Yeah"

"Even if I got really fat, and hormonal, and made you get a lousy nine to five job -"

"Especially then."

Silence begins to seap between them, partly to fill the space where empty words could be spoken, mainly to disguise the moment scarred between the two. She lets the words linger, but her eyes bore into his, first searching for a lie in his spoken words, then searching for any emotion to match hers. Lydia knew, that the connection she shares with Stiles bore into everything in that moment. The air hangs differently, and her skin aches at the slightest touch. When they were alone, like they were now, the universe changes from the one they share with eight billion others, to the one that only they share exclusively. A baby, or no baby, they were anchored together like a boat. They were anchored to this moment.

Her eyes don't leave his.

"Stiles."

"Yeah?"

"Lie with me."

He climbs onto the bed next to her and they face eachother, inches apart.

"I'm glad it is you. I'm glad you're my anchor." He says. Their hands touch and they fall together behind the small of Lydia's back so he can caress it softly and pull her close so their bodies touch. "That doesn't change, even after tomorrow"

"Even after tomorrow" She repeats

"No matter what we decide"

"We have time"

"We can take as long as we need" Softly, he kisses her forehead.

"Stiles?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm glad its you, too" She whispers, closing her eyes.

Outside, rain pours.

..

THE END.

Words: 8169

..

**POINTS FOR DISCUSSION** (PLEASE READ: If you want just skip the italics)

_The reason I have thought a lot about what I am going to write now is purely because at the end of summer I became quite ill. As I recovered, there was little to do in the hospital but binge watch TV and write. Together, the two past times made e open my Laptop and for the first time in two years click on the folder 'Fanfiction'_

_In the hospital your mind wonders, mine wondered to Stydia._

Firstly, I found writing this story rather unfufilling and aggravating to say the least. I was inspired by a story I recently read to try a dialogue based, present tense style of writing which I have never done before. Therefore, this story becomes clumsy and weak in many parts, not a clear reflection on the writing skill I have been working on. Nonetheless, this gives me the chance for constructive criticism - so if you have any points of improvement or spot any mistakes, please let me know.

It is easy to see, with the description that enters in the latter part of the story, how I have a lot of improvement.

**QUESTIONS ABOUT THE CHARACTERS/PLOT**

**Do Stiles and Lydia keep the baby?**

I left the ending deliberate and ambiguous for the reason that the reader gets to decide. I know it ends suddenly, and originally it was not the intention to leave the story there. However, the exciting part about this is that maybe in the future, I could explore what happens next, and the aftermath on the characters.

The truth is I didn't want the cheesy pregnancy story I secretly love to write. That isn't realistic: Abortions are often forgotten or brushed away upon in fanfiction, maybe because the lack of plot they give, maybe for personal bias. The thing is though, abortions happen, just like pregnancies happen, whether you agree with them or not its only fair to respect the decision of the person who has the unfortunate role of making that choice.

In my mind I know what happens, what happens in yours?

**Are Stiles and Lydia together at the end of the story?**

If you are reading this, you must really hate me - again I left this fairly ambiguous. The love between Stiles and Lydia is different than anything they have experienced before. They are each other's anchor, which means (to put it bluntly) they need each other to stay sane. Above any romantic feelings they are friends, first and foremost. The lack of romanticism between the two can be seen when Lydia smiles at the Jock - thus suggesting that though Lydia loves Stiles, she may not see him as a silly High school crush.

Don't be too disheartened: Lydia knows she loves Stiles, but the whole story basically focuses on which way she loves him. In truth, she can see herself marrying Stiles and being happy with him, in a way she could never be with anyone else (She realises near the end) She doesn't mind kissing him of being romantic with him, mainly - I believe - because as their relationship develops, it ends up just coming naturally to them.

Okay, in this story it is never clear if they end up together, or ever will do, but I will leave you with this: The last section, where Stiles caresses Lydia and pulls her close is a very intimate moment, above sleeping with someone or being with a person.

I have never lay like that with a person I was 'just friends' with.

**So, are they **_**in Love**_**?**

There are recurring themes in this story, a major one being the idea of true love. It is common to think that true love is this magical emotion that will sweep over two people and their lips will meet and they will never leave each other again.

As sweet and great as that is. Here I wanted to explore the idea that true love again isn't romantic, it isn't friendship either. True love is in its whole entire league.

Its own universe, some might say.

(Aww how romantic?)

So whilst their romantic involvement is ambiguous, yes. Stiles and Lydia do love each other, its up to you how you read the pieces and decide _in which way_.

I think I have left enough clues to spell out "soulmate" no?

**What's with all the anchor puns?**

Okay I admit, the idea may have sailed away with me. (Sailed away, get it?)** maybe I should be a comedian instead. (I joke)**

Because Stiles and Lydia ar each others anchor, the imagery of sea and boats and water can be used to fully highlight how important that tether is.

After all, this tether is strong, so stong that even the two main protagonists don't really understand it. It is this that leads them to have sex, to try and understand what is means for them. It is this anchor which causes Stiles to be there for Lydia, no question.

He was never going to leave.

I hope you enjoyed this incredibly frustrating story of mine (Frustrating to write, at least)

**Reviews are wanted and welcomed**, but its a free country - and I ain't your Daddy.

Laurie xoxo.


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